Caught by th’Al­migh­ty hand,
That Spir­it of the Lord,
Carried be­yond my­self I stand,
A wit­ness of His Word;
I see the book un­sealed,
Least of the pro­phets’ sons,
I mark Eze­ki­el’s val­ley filled
With vi­sion­ary bones!

Many they are and dry,
Spread thro’ the op­en vale,
Millions of life­less souls they lie
Within the Chris­tian pale:
I pass the church­es thro’,
The scat­tered bones I see,
And Chris­ten­dom ap­pears in view,
A hi­de­ous Cal­va­ry.

Can these dry bones per­ceive
The quick­en­ing pow­er of grace,
Or Chris­tian in­fi­dels re­trieve
The life of right­eous­ness?
All-good, al­migh­ty Lord,
Thou know’st Thine own de­sign,
The vir­tue of Thine own great Word,
The ener­gy di­vine.

Now for Thy mer­cy’s sake,
Let Thy great Word pro­ceed,
Dispensed by whom Thou wilt, to wake
The spir­it­ual­ly dead;
Send forth to pro­phe­sy
Thy chos­en mes­sen­ger,
And Thou the Gos­pel word ap­ply,
And force the world to hear.

Hear, ye dry bones, and feel
The word of truth and grace:
I will in you My­self re­veal,
I will your spir­its raise,
Je­ho­vah speaks the word!
The pro­mise is for you,
Ye shall be gra­du­al­ly re­stored,
And fa­shioned all anew.

Covered with flesh and skin
Ye shall your Sav­ior know,
And find the breath of life with­in
Which I on all be­stow;
The joy­ful news re­ceive,
The grace to sin­ners giv’n,
The know­ledge of your Lord, and live
The sin­less life of Heav’n.